


Mirror Mirror

by Transistance



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Internal Conflict, Love, Murder, Other, Self-Reflection, Two Minds One Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 04:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13473381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transistance/pseuds/Transistance
Summary: Grell is crimson, beautiful, strong. Grell is timid, twitchy, inept. They coexist for Anne.(Back and forth views of the Ripper arc from Grell the reaper and Grell the butler, and how they overlap.)





	Mirror Mirror

Her name is Grell Sutcliff and she is a reaper to _die_ for, a scarlet woman by all meaning of the term, a glorious burning beauty with all the world her stage and all in it her audience. She's dramatic and daring and bright and brilliant; loved by those who matter and unfettered by those who don't. Her life is a series of romances, scandals, scraps and contests, and she always is the one to come out on top.

His name is Grell Sutcliff and he is a butler. Just, ah, just a butler! Nothing more and nothing less. He stammers and stutters and stumbles, never quite sure whether he's tripping over his tongue or his feet. He murmurs and mutters and mumbles, and tries not to mess up simple tasks. His mistress is never pleased when he does that. His mistress tries to be kind, sometimes, tries not to show her disdain. He doesn't deserve her. He doesn't deserve anything. Maybe it'd all be better if he were to just-

 _Die!_ Reaping is what Grell was made for. She excels at it, cutting her way through her job with the vigour of the life that her long-dead self should lack. The drama of the reels, the excitement of running into a handsome stranger – demon or human alike, she finds escapade in both and runs her job like a dance. Her colleagues are often less than keen on fieldwork; all bloody accidents, murders, monstrosities committed both intentional and accidental all fall under the jurisdiction, but Grell loves the thrill of it all. Even the paperwork associated is far better than-

Butlering is not an occupation that Grell has much experience in. He has never before had to set out tables, greet guests, wait on anyone hand and foot. Never answer calls punctually, never make tea for six, nor CARRY that tea ALL the way down a corridor that seemed to elongate the further he got only to burst through a door and find himself unwanted. He'd never expected that humans could be less pleased to see their lackeys than reapers! They look down on him, full circle, because they see only his skin, as they must. Neither the reaper nor the Ripper is apparent here; only a bumbling fool who couldn't possibly coordinate enough to commit such crimes. It's embarrassing; debasing, almost. But he'll do anything for his mistress, his-

Anne is like nobody Grell has ever met. She's _vibrant_ , like Grell – puts her heart in her actions and flies on the immense, celestial wings of her own bloodlust. She doesn't _need_ Grell, not exactly, but Grell knows that she makes Anne's sprees easier to hide and orchestrate and that, to a certain extent, she fends off the loneliness. It's a small weakness that Grell tolerates and Anne tries to hide; that cloying human need for the closeness that she lost in her accident. No husband, no baby, no sister, no love; all she has is the nephew she so clearly wants to fuss over, held distant by his butler, and Grell. And yet she compacts this into a tight hard ball of rage, jealousy, psychotic revenge on the world for what she has lost. It's beautiful. Grell could almost love her, if it weren't for the constant distraction of-

Sebastian scares Grell. Petrifies him, actually. What are his limits? How well contracted is he? The boy he's claimed is barely teenage – hardly able to create a web complex enough to keep a demon tightly reigned. He's a sublime butler, perfect in form and manner in every aspect as far as Grell has seen, and tied, tied up like this he can't tell how old Sebastian is, can't tell how powerful he is outside surface observation! Reapers aren't supposed to exist in tandem with demons – one kills the other before camaraderie can be established, always, that's how it is – but in the capacity that they share Sebastian is unquestionably superior to Grell. He acts coldly, the derision in his voice laced under dry manners and faux friendliness; it's impossible to tell whether this is because he believes he speaks to a human or because he knows he addresses a reaper. Either way, he makes Grell feel worthless. Of course, this demenour is nothing new – the demon hasn't hurt Grell yet, but he knows the type too well to believe that is anything but a façade. Sometimes demons can be courteous, that's true enough. But men like-

William is beginning to notice her absences, she's sure of it. He's never said a thing to her explicitly; no, it's all _your paperwork has been late three days in a row, Sutcliff,_ and _I hope you enjoyed skipping work on Wednesday, Sutcliff,_ as though he's trying to intimidate the actions out of her. Reform her into the good little honey-bee he wants, doing her job like he does and not thinking of much besides. He's as staid as he's always been – arrogant, distant, cold. Once upon a time she coveted that, but now in spite of the still present lure of attraction she's beginning to peel away. Every day she feels her lingering limerence fade a little – it has more than a little to do with the excitement of Anne, the realisation that having him might not be the most thrilling thing in the world after all, but also-

He can't understand why she lets people hit her. Grell experiences the life of his other half as though watching from afar; he remembers being her as though a half-lost dream, the thrill of bloodlust coursing through her mind, the power as she leaps from rooftop to rooftop in pursuit of prey. He longs to be her again, even though the gore payment of helping Madam Red enact her vengeance on the living thrills him and her comings and goings in high society are all he could ever hope to want, had he been human. But he recalls the power _she_ has, her vivacity, her colour! She's so strong and so raw and so _wild_ – gorgeous glorious goddess. He's glad he gets to see her from such a unique perspective. As much as he is Red's he is _hers_ – and it's this loyalty that prevents him from stopping her when she-

Killing Anne doesn't feel like murder.

It doesn't make time stop; doesn't make the world fall away or Grell's lungs freeze up. Anne just falls, her body gushing red, eyes wide with lost shock as Grell wrenches back her scythe and lets go of her trust in her mistress. The sting of loss is eclipsed by the betrayal she feels, as her record bursts forth; what had once been enviable now only trite. A nagging, bitter whim in the back of her head bids her take the jacket, soaked through in blood, and she does.

Grell lets his mistress die and then, quietly and without issue, he dies too.

**Author's Note:**

> This'll be my last fic before disappearing off again to uni! Have a good time, all.


End file.
